<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Happy Trails by AbelQuartz</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23477182">Happy Trails</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/AbelQuartz/pseuds/AbelQuartz'>AbelQuartz</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Steven Universe (Cartoon)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Fluff, Hugs, Inspired by Fanart, Kissing, Literal Sleeping Together, Picnic, Sleep, Spring, Steven Universe Future, Teen Romance, Teenagers, mental health</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 07:22:04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,139</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23477182</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/AbelQuartz/pseuds/AbelQuartz</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been a while since Steven's left to be on the road, but he still makes time to see Connie and have little dates. It's only in those moments that they can talk about things that matter, to reminisce, to love each other. But even love can get tiring sometimes.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Connie Maheswaran &amp; Steven Universe, Connie Maheswaran/Steven Universe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>151</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Happy Trails</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This story is based, with permission, on art by Acynosure! Check it out with the rest of their blog here: https://tinyurl.com/tvgpkhk</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Northern Mackinac was a different shade of green everywhere Steven looked. Driving through the industrial parts of the lower state was similar to driving through Jersey, but with a different brightness to the world. Instead of the Atlantic ocean, each side of the state was cushioned with the lakes the size of small oceans, beautifully clear and frighteningly cold. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The boy had spent some time driving around the coast of the state before coming to meet Connie up here. Convincing her to take the time off spring break to meet him had been easier than he had anticipated. He glanced over in the passenger’s seat, watching her stare out the window. Lion had opted to rest at the bed and breakfast, lounging in the backyard in the sun. For a spring day, everything was warm and windless. The air conditioning blew across the teenagers’ bare wrists as they cruised along the highway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The historic scenic routes were the best part about driving along the states. While he was staying at the resort and working through the winter, he had missed passing along the frozen treeline, driving underneath the heavy black boughs. Especially through the north, the Dondai had trucked along well across the ice, warming in what little daylight he could find. The vistas had been coated with silver and dotted with perfect specks of gray. Passing along the Great Northern border, Steven had driven across great stretches of the American plain. He had never seen such barren beauty. The landscape rolled like frozen waves, massive swaths of no man’s land, where truckers would chug along and gas was exorbitantly expensive. Lax cumulus clouds lay low in the sky and covered the horizon as he had ridden on through to his destinations. There was little life to be found when driving by.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Earlier in the fall, Steven had taken a detour to the south and watched the culture change. The cities grew smaller and more compact, with different forms of artistry and tourism culture. He was kind of a tourist now, but he did his best to make himself feel out of place. He drove through small neighborhoods with houses fifty feet or more apart, manicured lawns turning yellow in the changing of the seasons. The trees grew smaller or larger, depending on how close he was to other human beings and the ocean. He could trace the graph and find the exact lines where the pine forests began and the roads began to give way to mountain paths, where the flatland stopped becoming flat, where the hills turned into winding roads leading him through a dense ocean of sudden, beautiful orange.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And here they were back north. In the forested regions, it was easy to find a place to pull off and hike along the riverbeds. They weren’t taking a walk today, but Steven had packed a small picnic just like how they used to have on playdates. The teenager tapped on the wheel as they rounded a bend. This time, they weren’t playing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They still hadn’t kissed in front of Connie’s parents. Along her college tour, the stops they had made were short and sweet. Diners and public parks had been their proving ground for the hours they got to spend together before drifting apart again. In the back of the Dondai, Steven would sit with his doggy bag of the day and reminisce about how Connie dabbed at her mouth with a napkin, how she indulged in sweet tea and the saltiest fries. He would sit in the darkness as the scent of bread and cheese filled the car. Sleep should have come easily those nights, and yet those were the times he felt the most restless.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Whatever today would bring, Steven knew he was going to sleep well. Last night had been filled with preparation and a heavy heart, though he wasn’t sure why. The day before, he had spoken to his therapist and asked about long-distance relationships and the problems and possibilities. Optimism could only get him so far. Steven had to jolt himself awake as the GPS lit up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, we’re here!” Steven said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wow, real wilderness.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steven put on his turn signal and slowed the car. The smooth asphalt turned into a rumbling dirt turnoff and the open sky was covered by a loose shaded canopy. The parking lot was empty save for a roofed informational sign and a bear-proof trash bin. Steven could see the path leading off to the picnic area by the far end. Connie was already reaching for her seatbelt when he pulled in and shut the car off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was dressed for the weather, having taken her jacket off to fold in her lap. The perfect white blouse was tucked neatly into her denim shorts, while Steven kept his pink letterman on over his black tee. His sneakers pushed on the brake pedal as he pulled his keys out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, thanks again for taking me out,” Connie said. “I’m glad Lion still listens to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s the best cat. Cat Steven’s tied.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you been seeing Garnet’s posts about her?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A daily Cat Steven, yeah!” Steven laughed. “She’s gonna get a lot of followers.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two stepped out of the car. As Steven went to get the basket from the trunk, Connie put her hand on top of the car and looked around them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s so beautiful up here. Even though it’s just the trees and sun, it feels so different than Delmarva. I’m not sure why.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, it’s a different ecosystem, right? Everything has to live in a different cycle, and that makes a new beauty on its own.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, that’s true! Man. All the campuses have such pretty plants and landscaping, but they’re so manicured. This is the real deal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can say that again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Talking to his therapist had reminded Steven about the new realism and the boundaries he could make for himself. Not everyone had a magical teleporting lion that could take them around the world, even to the moon, in the blink of an eye. Connie could go to college all over the world and still be able to come and see Steven at any point as long as Lion was being compliant. Not everyone had that privilege. And even the ability to drive everywhere was a blessing. Being the son of a rockstar had some benefits. Greg’s offer to pay for Connie’s education had been pushed aside for the time being. Scholarships were still an option, depending on how the schools viewed Connie’s excellent academic performance. Steven had no doubts that any school she visited would be happy to have her on their beautiful grounds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But it wouldn’t be the same as the woods. Steven let the basket dangle as he walked around to offer Connie his hand. The girl took it as they headed for the trail, both flushed in equal measure. Their private life together was small, short, and couldn’t be taken for granted. The boy counted his blessings and counted the seconds in his heart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Winter had left a multicolor leaf litter on the ground that sounded like paper underneath their feet. Steven’s scuffy shoes gently kicked aside the leaves and rocks as they walked through to the picnic area. The table looked like it was easily forty years old, rusted metal curving up into the benches. The wood was treated well but was still darkened with age and marred with cracks running along the top and the seats. Just beyond the ash trees by the riverbank, an abundance of rocks ran parallel to the highway and the picnic area. In between the granite and shale, the air was filled with the gurgling of the brook and the rushing water downstream. Skimming insects stood with perfect buoyancy on the surface of the swirling pools.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Connie broke from Steven to meander to the edge of the river as the boy stayed to set up the table. He put the basket down and brought out a small blanket for a tablecloth, spreading it over the wood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I got this jam from the south. It’s super sweet, made with cactus fruit!” he said. “There’s all sorts of weird jellies I didn’t pick up, the weird spicy mints and the pickle jelly — and I think there was a chocolate one?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait, chocolate </span>
  <em>
    <span>jelly</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” Connie called, turning with a raised eyebrow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, that’s what I said!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steven hummed to a song he had heard on the radio, setting out the little tupperware with their preparations. In each container there was a biscuit stuffed with the prickly pear jelly, an assortment of different cheeses and crackers and an apple. The boy picked out two twist-off bottles of strawberry soda, with water in the basket just in case. When he looked up again, Connie was sliding into her seat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How’d you find out about this place?” she asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This highway’s filled with little historic places and hiking trails. I got on the internet and used the RoadWorld to check it out ahead of time and look for the one that had a picnic area, something that would be pretty but private.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Connie raised her eyebrows and softened her gaze, not bothering to hide her smirk. She knew just as well as Steven that he acted differently in public than he did in these little hideaways. The boy crossed his hands under the table and glanced away as blood rushed to his face. Connie’s giggle brought him back to reality as she opened up the little plastic bucket.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, Steven, what’s it like on the road?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know how it is!” he said. “I send updates whenever I can! There’s the driving, the gas, the music loops, all the different trucks on the road, the license plate game —”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, Steven — what’s it like for you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steven knew exactly what she was talking about. His fingers came up to drum on the tablecloth as Connie reached in and pulled out the apple. She kept both her eyes on her boyfriend and took a big yet quiet bite.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Communication was still hard. Even after the months since the incident, talking was never easy. It felt like he was running a marathon when he didn’t know how to take baby steps, diving in without adjusting to the current. Talking with his therapist remotely was a quiet affair. Their remote sessions were private and emotional, often filled with huge swaths of silence as Steven figured out just what it was he needed to say.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Connie didn’t need to hear about that. There were some things he didn’t want to burden her with, and it wasn’t fair to Connie to hear about all the ways he was working through his pain. She was not his therapist — she was his friend. But she cared. Steven sighed and rubbed at the stubble growing through his chin, the dark and burly bumps that wouldn’t come off. It was hard to find that balance between what she wanted to know and how to tell her. Her munching filled the table with a strange clarity; the sound belonged, and brought him down to earth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve been doing okay, I think,” Steven said. “But it’s hard to stay in one place right now. A couple days at a bed and breakfast and I’ve been starting to feel antsy. It’s like when I left Beach City, I got filled with momentum, and shot into the future, and I have to keep moving or else what’s the point?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you think will happen if you stop?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The same thing that happened when I stopped back home. I’ll get restless, get into a cycle of self-doubt, look for help in places I shouldn’t inside me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s what you’re afraid of,” Connie mused, “not what’ll actually happen. Y’know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s the difference?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you’re afraid of something happening, that’s the worst-case scenario, but it’s vague, and it’s not real. You can’t ever know what’ll happen until it happens. I think you might find someplace that you enjoy, a flow you can get into. And you’ll always have a home to come back to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steven grumbled under his breath without words. He could tell Connie was smiling at him again as he pulled out his own biscuit. Chomping into the bread, he thought about the same thing his therapist had said, about the power of positive thinking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Defining what was positive had been hard for him. When he was stuck pink, with his Diamond powers out of control, everything had been positive in a manner of speaking. His optimism had been false, but it had been optimism all the same. Finding that healthy balance was integral. Steven had been told that he had a habit of spiraling into worry, but there was just so much to worry about in the world that he almost felt justified regardless of what he was told was an unhealthy habit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I feel the same way about college prep sometimes,” Connie continued, “where if I don’t keep studying and don’t keep myself sharp that I’ll end up failing my future. School’s a different kind of stress.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But at least then you know what you’re supposed to do! You have guidance counselors and pamphlets and assemblies and different things to tell you how to live!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Steven, that doesn’t help me know things like where I’m going to live, what job I’m actually going to have, if getting a degree is even worth it! School isn’t some assembly line where you end up as a functional adult at the end. I got school to work for me, but it doesn’t work like that for everyone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steven remembered the time he had come in for show-and-tell to Connie’s grade school that one time. Even then, they had had to deal with a corrupted Gem, and Steven’s magical adventures interrupted Connie’s day. The school had been partially destroyed, and Steven had accepted that school and Gem magic didn’t mix. But he could have started from the beginning, without the wildness of the outliers. Most of his days in his life were normal. They had always been normal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe it could work for me,” he mumbled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know you. And I know the kinds of kids you could be friends with. And I also know the kids who would pick on you, not just because you’re a Gem,” Connie said, setting down her apple core.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What does that mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re kind, Steven. You see the good in people,” she said as she brought out a mismatched cheese-and-cracker stack. “You like to help everyone out, teachers included. And you care. There are people who don’t have the space to care about school, and they’d resent you for it. They’d make you feel bad to make themselves feel strong. Bullies.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can deal with a few bullies,” Steven scoffed. “I dealt with the Diamonds at their worst!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And not everyone gets that change. Some people have other adults in their life, and they don’t have the powers you do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, Steven thought about his father. He had talked with Greg Universe more in the time following his breakdown. They had spoken about the authoritarian nature and why his father felt freedom was important. They had communicated through Steven’s therapist for a visit to talk about the day that Steven crashed the van. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The boy finished his biscuit and nodded to Connie slowly. It made sense that there were students who had parents with neither discipline nor morals, begging for a sense of structure like Steven had done while at the same time feeling oppressed by the figures in their life. They were pressure-cooked into a niche. Out of all the things that Greg had instilled in him, at least Steven was confident in his sense of right and wrong.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you like your parents?” Steven asked, reaching and twisting the bottle on his soda.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? Of course I do, I love them!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I mean, if you had to choose them, would you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s...a weird thought experiment,” Connie said after a second. “Huh. I guess I don’t know. The thing about parents is that you’re stuck with them. If I had to choose knowing what I know now, I’d only know because they raised me like that. Y’know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...fair point,” Steven conceded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But for the sake of argument? Yes. My mom’s super smart, and she raised me strictly but she did it because she wanted me to be disciplined. My dad is on the same page even when he’s goofing off. They both saw the way to success in the world, and that’s what they wanted for me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And now you’re going to be going off to college. Still haven’t narrowed it down yet?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re sending out a bunch of applications to see where I’ll get in. We’re doing five at a time, just to check it out. I’m so nervous.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t be!” Steven said. “You’re smart. You know the system. You’ve got this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks, Steven.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They smiled at each other, then ate. Steven had saved up just enough appetite for this little lunch date, and he suspected Connie did as well. She stacked her crackers and ate them in unique combinations with Steven’s chosen hard cheeses. On the road, Steven had a small cooler with his snacks inside, and instead of spending money at rest stops all the time he found it was worthwhile to pack little snacks for the road, cutting up fruits and cheeses and cookies to munch when he was sitting down. No matter how tired he got, he stayed away from energy drinks and caffeine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Money was no issue. On the road, he had spoken to his father about financial concerns, even though Greg had assured him that it was no issue. The man had given him a debit card in Greg’s name and had helped walk Steven through a banking app on his phone. When he had logged in for the first time, he had immediately called his dad, but no, it was no mistake. Half a million dollars in savings was more than enough to take Steven around the states. He hadn’t even made a dent in it, even with gas and hotels.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the winter, he had tried to find a place to call his own. The little wilderness resort on the prairie had been kind enough to let him work without any references or background papers after seeing what he could do with his arms. Moving boulders was an easy task for him, as was transporting wood, fences, cars, any kind of junk around the property. In exchange, Steven got to stay rent-free at the farmstead. The owners were a middle-aged couple from the south who ran the tourist business through the state. When he wasn’t hauling and overhauling, Steven got familiar with the town’s historic center and nature exhibit, where the various tourists would come in and look at maps of the area and chortle at the stuffed prairie dogs and snakes behind glass. The winters were harsh but Steven had his jacket and hat and calluses on his hands. After a month at the center, Steven told them that he had to hit the road again. The truth, which he never told them, was that he could never sleep. The bed wasn’t his. The warmth of the fire from logs he had scavenged himself was never enough. The foreign treated wood and the frozen toilet belonged to a man who wasn’t him now and wouldn’t be him in the future.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Coming back onto the grid had been a blessing. He had warned his family and friends about the spotty connection, and came back to a slew of messages asking about his time on the plains with the frigid wasteland. Sitting inside a rest stop on the western Dakota border, Steven had almost cried eating packaged chips for the first time and scrolling on his phone as it charged.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Connie’s unusual noise brought him back down to earth. Her eyes were closed and she was nodding in satisfaction as she bit into the biscuit, little bits of bright pink jelly left on the inside of the plastic where Steven had packed it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh man,” she grunted, “this is really great. You were right about the sweetness.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Heh heh, yeah. Much better than making jelly out of the actual cactus plant.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you think someone’s done it? I’m sure they have, if they’ve made chocolate. There’s no stopping them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I actually got a chance to try fried cactus at a restaurant in the desert! It tastes pretty much like green beans. They pick all the spines out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Geez, I would hope they do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steven didn’t feel like the apple for the moment. He took a swig of soda as Connie put her biscuit down and did the same. They sighed almost at the same time, turned out towards the river. Connie idly touched her cheek.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s beautiful out here,” she said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. Yeah…”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>As beautiful as you.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>It was so easy to be a cheesy romantic. The words came easily and died as they tried to get out of Steven’s mouth. He watched Connie watch the woods. They sat across from each other, the tablecloth between them gently rolled with the wind and their dining.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steven was tired. He was tired of being away from her for so long but he had to let her live her own life. Every day that went by where he didn’t find an answer to the question of existence was more and more exhausting. Talking to his therapist was the only thing keeping him grounded at the moment. Finding justifications to exist led to dark thoughts, thoughts he couldn’t share with his network, certainly not Connie, absolutely not the Gems. There were some worries that weren’t worth sharing. And for the moment, the thoughts were absent. Connie was here, and Connie mattered more than idle brain nonsense. Like the storm passing over the mesa, the thoughts always passed his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Packing up was a blur. Connie mentioned something about heading back to Lion and checking in with her parents. Steven watched her mouth move and heard the babbling of the river. The tupperware went back, the tablecloth was folded up, and Steven was walking ahead of Connie with the basket in one hand and the soda in the other. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>White noise flooded his head. The notes were all the same, incessant, unfeeling, cotton padding in his brain. He forced himself to enjoy these moments, as nothing felt good and nothing felt bad and he didn’t have to worry about worrying or not. Greens faded into mottled grays, the pines and beautiful oaks turning into tintype in his eyes. He stared at the fading leaves and the buds above him. There would always be leaves and needles on the forest floor. Wherever they walked around here, there would be something to fade into atoms and be flushed down the river, heading into the ocean, heading into nothing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The breath was almost knocked out of him as Connie hugged him from behind. The colors came back so suddenly that he gasped, turning at the closed trunk where he had just put the basket away. Connie’s grip was tight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“W-what’s wrong?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re doing it again,” she murmured.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Doing what? What’re you talking about?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just asked if you were okay, and you didn’t answer, and you were looking up at the trees like you were going to cry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everything Connie mentioned manifested physically. Steven felt the strange stiffness in his neck as though he had been staring for hours, and his eyelids felt heavy with an inevitable flood. The boy rubbed his face and turned around to look at Connie. He raised his hands and tried to smile. One look told him that it wasn’t going to work. Connie stared at him with her arms out to grab his own, her hair rocking in the gentle spring breeze. Steven sighed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t feel okay, but it’s okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you want to talk about it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m just tired is all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He raised his eyes to meet Connie. Through it all, he was telling the truth. Being tired was tiring, and there was nothing he could do except let Connie know that. He shook his head, adjusting his arms so that his hands could slide into the girl’s own. Connie held on and kept looking Steven over, but whatever she was doing to see under the surface gave nothing away. He was just tired, and he squeezed Connie’s hands gently. The girl stepped forward and leaned against his body, her head in the crook of Steven’s neck. They rocked together for a moment as Steven relished the warmth. A sunbeam broke through the treetops and shone down on the Dondai and the teenagers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know I worry about you,” Connie murmured, “so much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I worry about you too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, there’s nothing I can do to stop you worrying, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me, so there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steven let a smile come through. He let go of Connie’s hands and wrapped his arms around her body. She returned the hug in a tight squeeze. Solid and immovable, the two hugged in the empty parking lot as Steven stared at the short line of trees between them and the highway, at the road beyond and the mountainous curves of the earth farther beyond that. There was a long way to travel for both of them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But they didn’t have to move right now. Steven remembered another song from the radio, from the various stations that he had been browsing, with a country duet between two singers. Home, they said, is wherever I’m with you. It was cheesy but real. Maybe Steven could use his phone-cassette hookup and find the song and play it for Connie sometime. Anywhere he settled down would be fine, but home was indeed wherever she was. In time, when he finally stopped driving, they could settle together like the rocks on the river, as time passed and shaped them into smooth and beautiful pebbles, and then one day they would be sand together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have a pillow in the back seat.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, sometimes it’s easier to sleep in the car when I’m on a long stretch.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“C’mon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Connie broke the hug and pulled Steven over to the driver’s side backdoor. She was trying not to turn red, Steven could tell, though he wasn’t sure why. The girl opened the door and, to Steven’s surprise, slid on in. He wished he had cleared a little bit of junk out of the back beforehand, but Connie didn’t seem to mind. Steven peered inside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With the pillow underneath her head, Connie scooted down to the end and laid on the seat, putting her feet up and bending her legs in a way to try and get comfortable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, it’s not huge back here,” he chuckled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Connie sat up, exasperated, and grabbed Steven by the collar. The boy yiped as she pulled him into the cramped interior, turning to close the door and make sure his jacket didn’t get caught. He turned back to Connie right as the girl leaned her face up and kissed him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This was a gentle kiss. Steven liked to consider their kisses and label each and every one of them, the ones that saved and the ones that happened on a daily basis, the small kisses and the deep ones. This kiss was a surprise. Steven let his eyes close slowly as Connie held her lips against his, her hands coming to brace his body from falling into her. It was a short kiss. Connie drew away first, as if to check on the dazed teenager she had pulled in with her. He blinked and tried his best to smile. The back of the Dondai really wasn’t built for two people.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s big enough for us,” Connie said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“C-Connie?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re tired, Steven. Let’s nap. Remember? When we were kids?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was the kind of memory that could only happen in the future. When they were younger, Steven and Connie fell asleep in front of movies all the time, while reading to each other, on couches and in sleeping bags, until they woke up and discovered one or the other resting peacefully come the next morning. Steven hadn’t recalled those moments until just now. This was a different time, filled with hormones and romance, with all sorts of adventures and the fact that being kids was a time of trauma. It was a time of nonsense and a time to take seriously. The boy swallowed and pushed himself into a seat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you want me to, um…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Connie giggled and sat up again, gripping Steven in another hug. He had to laugh with her as she pulled him down into the seat, into her body, and they writhed momentarily as they adjusted in each other’s grip. Connie was definitely in control here. She hugged Steven tightly as they settled. The boy found himself with his legs curled up, dangling off the seat, his face pushed into the crook of Connie’s arm. The sun brought in gold through the window.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ll go back to the B&amp;B in a little while, and check in with Lion, and I’ll call my folks and we’ll get dinner,” Connie murmured into his ear. “Right now, Steven Universe, you need to sleep.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… I’ll try.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t have to try, he knew, but it felt good to say. If he was in any other state, if he felt resistant to help at all, he would have badgered Connie for mothering him, for forcing him to lie down with her like this. Steven was too tired. As soon as he closed his eyes, he found comfort in the position, in the way his body was so gently folded like dough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good,” the girl said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was the last thing Steven remembered before his eyes closed and the dreamless sleep came. Connie’s gentle breathing and the hand around his shoulder was enough to ease him into a state of tranquility, as his arm underneath holding her was enough to remind him why he shouldn’t worry. Being here was enough to relax him. Being Steven was enough when he was with Connie. For the next few moments, for however long they were here, this was home to him. Home was sleeping with his girlfriend in the backseat of his car. Home was the scent of her freshly laundered shirt pressed into his face. It was the feeling of her bare legs against his denim, the way the sun warmed the skin on her arms. It was the sound of ancient trees around them whispering just like Connie had, until Steven’s eyelids filled with so much color.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>